The Wistful Asylum
"The left one, Thomas. The left one is the one that bleeds the red, and the right one is the one that bleeds the blue, and you must not let them mix, for if they mix, the house will burn, and we shall all be ash before the sun sets again." Margaret did not look up from the loom. Her fingers, thin as birch twigs and stained with the indigo of the warp, moved with a mechanical precision that...
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